


Living in Each Other's Pockets

by TheColorBlue



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur wants to shave their facial hair, Gen, multiplicity, plurality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColorBlue/pseuds/TheColorBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inception Team as a <a href="http://www.astraeasweb.net/plural/">plural</a> group. Set before the guys have been introduced to Mal or Ariadne--so some time before what would correlate to the events of the film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in Each Other's Pockets

Looking into the mirror was always a little jarring. Their body was thirty-three (which felt the right age for him, although older than Arthur, and older than Eames, and too young for Saito) and it never looked quite the way he imagined himself to look. It was hard to say why. Their body was male, Caucasian, and reasonably fit, from all the time Arthur and Eames spent working out and boxing and doing inane things like practicing back flips. Dom felt male, Caucasian, and thirty-three, but their face didn’t look right for him when he peered into the bathroom mirror in the mornings, and then he rubbed his hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble, wondering if he would be allowed to grow it out. He rather liked the idea of a bit of rakish facial hair. Eames might like it too, and Saito would not be adverse, he imagined—but Arthur would hate it. He’d probably steal away behind their backs and shave it clandestinely.

On Saturday mornings, he made eggs and toast for breakfast. He made coffee. Saito would usually join him and read the morning paper. Dom would chew his eggs, dipping breadcrust into the yolk and soaking it up. Saito would turn the pages of their newspaper and perhaps drink some coffee, although coffee was more of Dom’s morning drink. Saito made tea in the afternoons. And in the mornings, Saito might have discussed with Dom the group’s finances, the investments he was managing for them, or perhaps he’d give Dom a catch-up on some of the previous day’s going-ons that Dom had missed. Saito would talk out aloud. Dom usually listened, but sometimes he’d respond out aloud as well—and the appearance might have been that of someone talking to himself, but it was the only way that it worked between him and Saito, and it only worked between him and Saito. Watching Saito read the paper was like watching the body do something without him. It was like pausing for a moment over his eggs and observing a television show in the kitchen—watching something that had nothing to do with him, and it was easy to roll back and dump more ketchup and pepper on his eggs, to scratch the back of his neck, and then listen to Saito report on how Arthur and Eames were going to have to be careful with their body’s right knee when they went in for sparring, or took their morning jogs around the neighborhood.

Saturday mornings were Dom’s time to catch up on the group. For whatever reason, he was isolated from the internal communication that usually seemed to go on. Arthur liked to report to Dom via email, about grading that he was going to have to do for the classes they taught, or a student appointment that would occur when he was up. They had a shared planner and calendar, but Arthur liked to give people reminders on what was going on, keeping careful and detailed track of their daily schedules. He was very neat and organized. Eames liked to communicate with Dom via videos he recorded through the webcam on their home desktop. He’d sprawl in front of the computer in one of those brightly patterned shirts of his, the sleeves rolled up so that the tattoo on their right forearm peeked through, and he’d methodically go through the research he’d done at the lab that day, his experiments with physical presentation during dreams. At the end of his sessions, then he’d grin and also perhaps remark on a play he’d been involved with, small-scale productions on campus or with local stage companies, how he and Yusuf had gone out for drinks afterwards with some of the players, and he really did hope that Dom would consider taking more time out for relaxation—give himself space to develop a little fancy and imagination—and maybe that would make up for Arthur’s utter lack of it, the old stick in the mud. The last would often draw Arthur’s attention, draw him out long enough for him to take the body and tell Eames to stuff it. Eames would always laugh afterwards. Eames’ laugh was easy to tell, full and rich and genuine. Arthur was harder to make laugh, but he too had his own unmistakable way of smiling, amused and gradual in the way they finally made it to his eyes, crinkling the corners.

**Author's Note:**

> The above was a bit of a character study; not much, but given the nearly utter absense of functional plurality in the media, I felt motivated to post it. I love the idea, but doubt I'll have time to continue the story. The background is as follows:
> 
> Dominic Cobb is one of several separate consciousness in the Cobb Collective, a plural group sharing the same body. In a world where plurality has been socially accepted, there's been a line of research done into helping open up internal lines of communication within a plural group whose members have limited or no such communication, treated either through experimental medications or therapy (ex. Sybil, often cases that include blackout, memory loss, etc). One such experimental therapy has been through the technology of shared dreaming. The notion is that by allowing internal members to make contact in a shared dream space, it is possible that the brain could be stimulated to propagate it's own natural, neurological pathways leading to the formation or enhancement of internal communication. Conclusive results have yet to be collected, but Dominic Cobb found the notion interesting enough to suggest that his group look into it. Dom is aware of others sharing the bubble of their collective life, although most contact has been done through post-it notes, email, whiteboard messages, webcam video, etc. His group mates include Arthur--also the one who took martial arts and has an extensive tumblr account filled with the suits he wished they could afford--Eames--the other one who took martial arts, also has a hobby in acting--Saito---the business mind of their outfit, also in charge of their finances and investments--and Dom has heard mentions of this fellow named Yusuf, he doesn't know the guy too well but apparently he's the one who took all of their undergrad and graduate chemistry-related courses. Collectively, the lot of them are involved in academia, in shared dream tech research.


End file.
